


that's what mothers do

by ashers_kiss



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: (I have no idea what else we're tagging these with), (to be on the safe side), Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Attempted Sexual Assault, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, New York City, details in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 01:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashers_kiss/pseuds/ashers_kiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry comes home late one day, complete with a black eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that's what mothers do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niniadepapa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/gifts).



> A (late /o\\) present for Nini's birthday, set during that year in New York, and based on [this beautiful AU](http://emmaofmisthaven.tumblr.com/post/109687716577/my-name-is-henrietta-henry-im-your-daughter) where Henry is short for Henrietta.
> 
> Regarding the sexual assault mentioned in the tags: a boy tries to kiss Henry, and she breaks his nose for it. It's then implied there's a bit of a scuffle, wherein she gets a black eye. (One of these days I'll write something nice that doesn't need warnings. /o\\) Unbeta'd, because I was already late.

Henry comes home late one day, complete with a black eye.

She tries to hide it, keeps her head ducked low and her hat pulled down over her eyes, but Emma’s been doing this for nearly thirteen years, she knows the signs. (Hell, she _invented_ some of them, but she’ll be damned if she’s going to give her kid _tips_. She’s trying to be a responsible adult, whatever that means.) She’s also had nothing but a too-chipper voicemail greeting to listen to for the two hours Henry’s been gone, and her voice is sharp and harsh when she snaps out a, “Sit,” and points at the couch. Henry doesn’t quite glare, but she dumps her bag by the door and practically skulks into the living room, so Emma lets it slide.

She takes a couple of deep breaths, lets the knots in the pit of her stomach loosen. Part of her just wants to soak up the sight of Henry sitting there, stiff shoulders and all, because she’s _okay_ , she’s home, she’s safe, and honestly, Emma doesn’t even know what all the things going through her head were.

She buys herself a few more minutes wrapping the peas up in a towel – and if someone had asked, earlier, why they even _had_ frozen peas, Emma probably wouldn’t have been able to tell them – before she makes herself walk into the living room and hold her dripping package out. “So what happened?”

Henry takes the peas, and oh, Emma recognises that set of her jaw. _Mulish_ , one of her foster-mothers had called it. (If Emma’s honest, that just made her do it all the _more_ , until she got sent away again.) “I got detention.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She eases herself on to the other end of the couch, keeping herself out of Henry’s space. She’s still holding herself so tight, arm wrapped tight around her middle, Emma’s scared she’s going to break. It’s too familiar, catches in her chest, at things she thought she’d buried years ago; her baby girl was never supposed to look like that. “How about before that?”

Henry shrugs, sharp and jerky, still staring down at her knees. Emma doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move – she can wait. She could do it for the whole waiting up for Santa thing (yawning into her cocoa even as Henry kept herself wide eyed and determined), she can do it for this.

It doesn’t take long. Not really. Her girl’s stubborn, sure, but Emma’s the one who made her that way.

“Some boys.” She shrugs again, like it’s no big deal. Like ice hasn’t just shot down Emma’s spine, through her belly. “They were sayin’ stuff. _Stupid_ stuff. ’Bout you, mostly, but Kylie too.” She tips her head, ever so slightly, and she didn’t get that from Emma. “One of them tried to kiss me.”

“And they gave _you_ detention?” Oh, she knows she should be careful, because that’s not even her work voice, that’s her on the road voice, and that never, never comes anywhere _near_ Henry. She forces herself to unclench her fists, press her hands flat against her thighs and take a few more of those deep breaths. She wants _names_. She wants to knock down doors, beat the little brats until they’re crying blood, crying for their mommies, for even _daring_ to think about touching her baby girl.

But Henry’s – Henry’s grinning at her, under the peas, trying to bite it back like she thinks she maybe shouldn’t be as proud. “I kind of broke his nose for it,” she says, and Emma feels like – like her strings have been cut, the tension flooding out of her, even if there’s still a chill lingering in her gut.

All she says, though, is, “Should I be getting more ice for your hand?” And Henry’s crowding close, shuffling along the couch to show her, because – 

“No, look, see, I did what you told me! I kept my thumb out and everything.”

Emma curls her hands around Henry’s, skirts her thumb carefully around red knuckles, because she’s right; there’s no bruising, no swelling, and Emma’s struggling to put this feeling into words, this tight, desperately _proud_ feeling trapped behind her heart. She looks up into her daughter’s beaming face, black eye and all (and yeah, okay, she maybe still wants to go punch someone herself), and thinks, not even for the first time this week, that she is so, so fucking lucky.

“I’m pretty sure I should be telling you off for the violence thing,” she says, and Henry starts to roll her eyes before she remembers, wincing. Emma lifts her eyebrows. _“But,”_ she continues, and Henry knows not to interrupt that voice, “he fucking deserved it, so we’ll call it quits, okay?”

Henry’s face splits into another one of those smiles, the one Emma doesn’t know _where_ she got it from, but is so glad she did. Then she’s sucking in a breath as Henry practically _throws_ herself into her, arms around her neck – peas and all, leaving a cold, damp patch seeping through Emma’s sweater. “Thanks, Mom,” she mutters, pressed against Emma’s throat, and Emma wraps her arms around her tight. She doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

“You didn’t think I’d be mad, right?” she asks, long after she’s gone stiff, and still not ready to move.

She swears that being able to give full-body shrugs while this close is a teenager thing. “You don’t like it when I hit people.”

And she has to pull back at that, has to let Henry see. Has to make sure she _knows_. “That was self-defence, Henry. That’s – that’s a _totally_ different thing. No one – and I mean _no one_ – is allowed to force you into doing anything you don’t want to do. Anything that’s – anything that’s going to hurt you, you use everything you got to make sure that doesn’t happen, to keep yourself safe. You hear me?”

“Hear you.” Henry nods, fierce and quick. “Promise.” Because of _course_ she does. Emma presses a kiss to her forehead, knocking her hat half off in the process, and endures the resulting squawk of _“Mom!”_ and flailing teenage limbs until Henry gets herself righted. Then she declares it movie night, because fuck homework, makes them cocoa and popcorn, even the sweet stuff Henry likes, that she’s never been able to stand.

It’s worth it, for Henry’s smile. It always is.

*

The next day, she drops Henry off and waits until the final bell has gone and the grounds cleared before she walks into the office, head high, and demands to know what the _hell_ they think they’re doing punishing teenage girls defending themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to acknowledge that what Emma says to Henry is _true_ , but also only one facet of self-defence. "What keeps you safe" is a very loose definition for a very complex issue, and varies from situation to situation. You do whatever you need to do to keep yourself safe in those situations, whatever that may mean, and there's no shame in any of it. Fuck anyone who tells you differently.


End file.
